Is it living, or just existence?

I bowled a 202 today. Would've been a 222, if the instructor hadn't ruined my concentration by trying to show me me bowling on his video camera. I bowled a gutter then picked up the spare in one frame. 222 is the score if it had just been a strike. For those keeping track, that's a 263 low-tap style. A.K.A. serious wow territory.

I'm officially old enough to prefer the company of people younger than myself to the company of people older than myself. Mental note: this happens somewhere around 25.

My back is killing me. And I know when I checked the radar at 1430 this afternoon, that motherfucking rain was about ½ an hr. away. So why did it wait til 10 to rain? I brought my bike cover to campus with me and covered my fucking bike. And that rain sat there and waited. Oh, it pissed a little on me as I was leaving class at 4 for dinner (yeah, I ate today; twice, in fact). But that rain just sat there and said, "We gonna catch this motherfucker on his way home. Watch me fuck his shit up." Yeah, rain sounds like Richard Pryor in my head.

I still can't bring myself to care about anything. I'm not unhappy; I'm actually doing quite well. I'm just spectacularly unmotivated, undriven, and uncaring. All I want to do is make people laugh and think. The rest of life is pure boring.

A frequent problem with lucidity is that once you realize you can control your dreams, there is this intense pressure to do things. But what? Fly? The novice dreamer quickly runs out of suggestions for things to try.